


Protector

by Pocketedcrayon



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocketedcrayon/pseuds/Pocketedcrayon
Summary: Even moar drabble.Drabble: the Drabblening





	1. Chapter 1

You eye the clipboard attached to the wall outside the door, here's the next subjects captured in a photograph. There's four of them, three men, one woman. All of them lined up against a wall.

The coach, mechanic, and reporter are all visibly relieved and exhausted. But the last man is frowning into the camera, his eyebrows creased heavily.

As per protocol, every group that comes in is housed together in cells until its determined what their infectivity status is.

These four, thankfully, have been tested immune.

If that wasn't the case, it would not be you coming to notify them.

After a once over to make sure the hazmat suit you've been issued is secure, you enter the dark cell, quickly shutting the door behind.

In the dim light you count three visible shoulderlines. they've clustered their mats together, only actually using two of them instead of the four they had been provided with. 

You go to shake a shoulder, opening your mouth to say-

“Don’t go near them.” 

You snap your head up and there's a man, glaring stone cold at you with a pistol tensely pointed towards the floor in his hands. 

You don't know how he snuck that in.

He slinks out of the shadows, stepping quietly over the three sleeping on the mats. His eyes are ringed in tired bruises, and he's silently daring you to take a step forward.

He enters your personal bubble and you swear you can feel the heaviness of his ill-fitting jacket through the rubber of the suit. Your heart pounds and you breathe heavier, humid sterile air blowing through the filter. Water trickles down your brow.

They were immune, but that didn't mean safe.

You take a step back and he follows, backing you closer to the door. 

You wonder if you could wrestle the pistol out of his hands, but you don't know if its it's worth it. He could rip the suit, he could crush the filter, smash the visor.

Through the clear plexiglass you can see stubble and dirty stains. His chest is sweaty and coiled, scabbing scratches barely hidden under the unbuttoned dress shirt. 

Behind him, there's stirring.

“Get out.” The man huffs, he tilts the pistol slightly, bloody rings glinting.

You don't need to be told twice.


	2. Aftermath (Drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even moar drabble.
> 
> Drabble: the Drabblening

“I don't think you guys understand what I mean when I say its it's more dangerous to be with the military than with the zombies.” By now they were all familiar enough with each other that Rochelle could recognize the slight terrified strain to Nick’s voice. 

She can see him sitting slouched against the wall, frowning. 

“They said we’re immune,” Rochelle tries to smooth over his tension with a soft tone, she wrings her hands and shifts her legs on the cot. “Doesn't that mean we’re safe?”

Nick snickers sarcastically and shakes his head, “Sweetheart, no.”

“As far as I'm concerned, the further away we are from the zombies the safer we all are.” Coach turns over on his cot and speaks authoritatively.

Nick perks his head up and glares challengingly. “No, what you did is walk us straight out of the pan and into the fire.” There's a full few seconds where the two stare at each other tensed.

Ellis looks up from the moldy car magazine he was browsing and glances between the two men confusedly. “What do you mean Nick, ain't the military supposed to help us?” 

Nick turns to look Ellis in the eye. “We’re immune. So if they want to cut us apart and figure out how we tick, they will.”

He turns back to Coach, his shoulders hunched forward and he points accusingly. “We should've run when we had the chance, hotwired one of those cars after we crossed the bridge, hell we could've stayed with Virgil-"

“Excuse me?” Coach cuts through his sentence. “I told you before we crossed that bridge, that if you wanted to leave, you could've. But you choose to stay!”

He rolls off the cot, shifting to stand. He approaches Nick judgingly. “And sneaking that gun in and then threatening that man? Are you crazy? Now they're going to be looking at all of us like we might shoot ‘em!” 

Ellis and Rochelle stare at them.

Nick shifts his head downward. Before the apocalypse he wouldn't have been cowed by somebody like Coach in the slightest. 

He would've stepped on them all, and he wouldn't have cared. 

Look where he is now.

“Alright now, boys, let's not start something.” Rochelle decides to cut this thing short. “This is out of our control now, Coach is right. The only thing we can do is follow their orders.”

“And hope they don't shoot us?” Nick says somberly, his eyes look so tired.

Rochelle nods. He slumps.


End file.
